Summers are simply great. That’s when much of America
But it is also time for
harvesting those vegetables your sainted wife planted back in late March.
Just about now there are
zucchinis the size of telephone poles, hidden from view by the overgrown beds;
weeds disguising yellow squash that are huddled together beneath the natural
sunshade; and cucumbers that would make a person wealthy if they were worth 10¢
each.
Unfortunately, nearly everyone is
in the same position – they all have tons of surplus veggies with no goal to
use them all. Even neighbors politely
refuse these excess foodstuffs. Alas.
So it was today that my sainted
wife began the great cucumber pickling of the season. Our motto is “waste nothing.”
Into the attic we climbed,
searching for the necessary canning tools and accessories. All this critical stuff was in the attic where temperatures
were hovering around a pleasant 173º Fahrenheit.
Out came the dusty giant jar
grabbers, glass jars of various sizes, a magnetic lid lifter, a plastic poker
to remove bubbles, and the king-sized pot.
After a thorough inventory, we
realized we were in need of only a few items to can these cucumbers.
Dill weed, dill seeds, mustard
seeds, pickling spice, more jars, lids, two gallons of vinegar, finely chopped
garlic, a jar of “pickle crisp granules,” and salt.
Only $133.47 later, we were on
our way to making cost-effective pickles to amaze and awe our friends and
neighbors.
Our modest kitchen closely
resembled a cross between meth lab and operating room. Knives, pliers, pullers, pushers,
towels-a-plenty, boiling water and steaming white vinegar, lent to an air also
filled with herbs and spices.
Smokey the cat cowered near my
recliner, trying – unsuccessfully – to decipher this chemical extravaganza.
Shakespeare’s three witches from
Macbeth could almost be heard chanting, “Double, double, toil and trouble,”
from the mist arising from the stove.
 |
| The great cucumber coup |
Using oversized pliers, my
apron-clad sainted wife carefully plucked sterilized canning jars from a giant
soup pot.
Neatly tucking cucumber spears
into the jars, she added a brine concoction of our earlier supermarket coup.
As the jars were sealed, they
were individually loaded into sectioned cardboard boxes, and then cautiously
covered with tea towels to prevent drafts and prying eyes from ruining all the
hard work.
Eventually, they stood in
arrangement akin to a neatly dressed army of glass soldiers standing at
attention.
All this was fine until I asked
for a pickle to try.
My sainted wife snapped, “They’re
not ready, and won’t be for another two-weeks.
TWO WEEKS!”
To occupy my time, I broke out
the calculator and ciphered the cost of making pickles from our free cucumbers.
The bottom line was $12.87, per
pint. Not bad, considering I could have
bought them in the market for $3.79.
Yeah!
